


Taking Off

by farfetched



Series: Semi Eita and the Swan Maiden [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brief Mentions of Blood, Established Relationship, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Nonbinary Semi Eita, Recovery, Semi gets turned into a swan maiden, Swan Maidens, initiation ritual, some mentions of a made-up religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21724078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfetched/pseuds/farfetched
Summary: Semi Eita is ready to fly. Ready to earn their wings and actually fly. They've learnt freedom, now it's time to learn the sky.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Series: Semi Eita and the Swan Maiden [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565746
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Taking Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnceABlueMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceABlueMoon/gifts).



> This is a sequel to Learning to Fly - I think it can be read on its own, but it will probably make more sense when read after that!

"This will cause you much pain."

"I understand." 

"Neither is this able to be reversed."

"I understand," they murmur again. Naoto nods. 

"Then, it is decided. If you understand the situation, then all we must wait for is the moon," she responds, folding her hands into her lap. "Build up your strength. You shall need it," she adds as she shifts her weight back onto her feet to stand up from kneeling. They nod, hiding their racing thoughts behind a calm facade. It is an endeavour, they think to themselves. The thought of a trial scares them, but also makes them quiver with anticipation. To attain new heights, to truly be accepted here; it would be wonderful. 

They see her out, her gait more ungainly with her unborn child weighing on her - in some ways, they envy that child, and these people around them. None of them had to do this, had attained their second skins so close to birth as to not remember any ordeal they had gone through. 

Although- it's not true. There are a few here that were not born. None of those people have told them exactly what it all involves, which is aggravating. They all said it was painful, and exhausting, and demanding. They all said they didn't regret it. 

A knock on the door turns them from their thoughts, although the person at the door does not await their permission to enter. They smile as Kenjirou pops his head around the door, eyebrows raised in question. 

"You learnt all the secrets of the swan maidens? Are you going to sell our stories to the emperor?" He teases. Eita snorts in bemusement. 

"Hardly. I learnt very little, in truth." They get up to make tea, to ease their nerves. “I don’t suppose you would tell me?” Shirabu seats himself, smiling coyly and looking at them fondly through his eyelashes. Eita snorts again, shaking their head. “Didn’t think so.” 

“You _know_ already that I cannot tell you,” Shirabu murmurs, tapping his fingers on the table rhythmically. Eita thinks that he is as nervous as them, which only makes things worse. They fall silent for a moment, Eita hovering by the kettle and watching out the window as the clouds pass. 

Will they be up there? Will they be able to go? Will they be able to fly by the palace, and see their old home from high up above, where the reign of emperors ends and the sky begins? 

A pair of arms around their waist draws them back to the present. They can feel Shirabu’s cheek pressed against their neck; they tilt their head slightly to rest it upon Shirabu’s, and sigh. 

“I’ll be able to pass, won’t I? After all, you managed it, somehow.” Shirabu jabs them in the stomach, although it carries no real intent.  
“You are so rude. Why am I even with you. Get out my house,” Shirabu mutters, contradicting his words by holding them tighter. Eita snorts.  
“Because I saved you. Because I am a delight.”  
“If you say so, _dear_. Don’t forget who is making dinner tonight.”  
“Shall I get the futon out, then?” Eita jokes, and Shirabu squashes them tighter again.  
“You wouldn’t dare. That’s too serious for this kind of argument.” Shirabu buries his head into the crook of Eita’s neck, his fine hair tickling their shoulder. “You’ll be fine. It’s… The trials are likely nothing worse than you survived at the palace. You will be fine.” 

Eita gives up on the tea and turns to embrace Shirabu fully. That seems better for the nerves than tea ever was. Rare blunt assurances aside, it’s comforting that Shirabu believes in them. 

Now they just have to wait for a clear full moon.

* * *

The snows come, and slowly recede. The flock live on stored grains and cured meats, with the occasional fish that someone has braved the chill to attain. Midwinter passes in a flurry of fires and stories of long ago. Naoto smiles at them across the room, and they nod back; she understands the frustration of waiting, her belly swollen and child due any day now. She does not take much part in the festivities, retiring early with her husbands, unlike Eita and Shirabu, dancing until the early hours. 

Part of Eita thinks they ought to build the bed a little bigger. Most of Eita thinks they like being in such close proximity to Shirabu as they sleep, a novel comfort to them still. 

Each full moon brings an anticipation and an inevitable disappointment, for each full moon dawns cloudy, raining or snowing. 

Until, at last, the full moon sparkles clear in the sky, embedded in a necklace of stars on the canvas of dusk, and Naoto turns up at their door. 

“Are you prepared to leave the human world and enter another?” she asks. Eita nods; behind them, Shirabu grumbles sleepily. It is late, after all, but sleep has been far from Eita’s mind all day, watching the sky. When not a cloud graced it, they knew. They had busied themself with chores, knowing that this trial would take a few days to recover from fully, and hoping to lessen the load on Shirabu. 

“I have been prepared for months now, let us wait no longer,” they state, although Naoto glances behind them and smiles faintly. Eita has but one thing left to do. Turning, they walk over to the bed, where Shirabu is blinking tiredly at them, eyes still heavy with sleep. He has been hunting today, hence his fatigue now. Eita smiles at him warmly, unable to contain it, and smoothes his hair back with one hand. “I must go now, Shirabu, but I shall be back. Hopefully then we may fly together,” they murmur, and lean down, pressing their lips to his forehead. Shirabu grins soppily at him. 

“Come home safe, my love,” he slurs, and such open sentiment surprises Eita. Shirabu winds a hand around their neck and pulls them into a full kiss, and holds them tightly. “I believe in you, Eita,” he whispers into their ear before he releases them, a smile still evident on his lips. 

What can Eita do but obey? They run their fingers through Shirabu’s hair once more, as they succumb to sleep once more, and then turns away. When they return, they will be victorious, they know now. All nerves eased, they take a deep breath and face Naoto. 

“Lead me,” they announce. Naoto nods, and they go into the night.

* * *

The two of them spend an hour or so climbing up one of the mountains, until they reach a small spring, water filtering up through the soil, unimaginably pristine and so clear, it reflects the night sky above them perfectly. Eita spends a moment absorbing the sight, and feeling the thrum of serene energy pulsing throughout the small clearing. 

Naoto draws a lidded cup out of her bag, and offers it to Eita.  
“You must drink this, all of it, then fill the cup of spring water and drink that, too,” she explains while Eita eyes the drink. It is cloudy, and in the dark it is hard to ascertain the colour, but they should think it a muddy brown. They take the cup gingerly, as Naoto holds onto the lid, and waits. 

They draw it to their lips, smelling it first; it does not appear to smell of anything at all, and they hesitantly take a sip. At first, the blandness seems a blessed relief from any of the foul tasting medicaments they have had the misfortune to come across. The more of it that they drink, however, the more the blandness of it overwhelms them. It tastes oily, almost; it is thicker than water, but only just – by the end of the cup they are pleased to be through with it, and twist to fill the cup with spring water, gulping it down for the freshness it brings. 

The spring water, though, is no ordinary water either. As they drink it, it seems to radiate and sparkle along their arms, their legs, until they are filled with an overwhelming feeling they cannot pinpoint. They feel apart from the world, all of a sudden; it is not under their power that their body returns to looking at Naoto for instruction. Part of them, though, knows what they need to do, somehow. There are whispers in their ears, and knowledge that does not belong to them tells them that they are ancestors and descendants, all of whom have drank from this spring. 

Naoto’s eyes glimmer, and she, too, no longer seems quite herself as she takes the cup from their slack grasp. 

“You imbibe from the spring of the goddess, and we must now thank her; for her harvests, her joys, her blessings,” she says, sounding as though two people speak in perfect symphony. “Do you, Semi Eita, promise to live true to the goddess, to help those in need, and turn away evil?” 

The force carrying them recedes a little, allowing them to make this decision of their own accord. Once they nod, the feeling fills them up once more. Naoto bows.  
“The goddess awaits your gratitude.” 

Eita both is, and is not, in control of their body, as they wade into the spring up to their knees, and pause, staring upwards for a moment. The stars above twinkle, several becoming most bright and illuminating them. 

They dance, a loose, flowing dance. Their dance is a slow, fluid one, and under the light of the stars, they project their wishes, their gratitude; for being set on their path to being freed, for meeting Shirabu, for being able to partake each day in this peaceful society of the swan maidens, for the flock’s acceptance of them, neither man nor woman, and having respect for that. They dance, and they pray, and they dance. Their feet go numb, and they stumble, but they continue dancing, compelled by a magical energy. They sing, they fashion a crown from the flowers that mysteriously bloom around them, they stand still and watch those stars with such intensity that they feel the cosmos converse with them. 

They continue dancing until dawn peeks over the horizon, the sun creeping on with its rays and Eita floats in the spring, staring upwards. The stars above flutter and wink, and a warmth envelops them, reminding them of Shirabu, but also different; something more ethereal, something that will continue with them for eternity. 

Standing, they greet the sun, and bow deeply, waiting. The stars fade from view in the morning light, although they understand that they will always remain, behind the sun, the clouds; they will always be there to guide Eita back. 

The water shifts as Naoto steps towards them. Wordlessly, Eita kneels, and she puts a hand on each of Eita’s shoulders. A moment later, she traces down to his shoulder blades, holding her fingertips upon them. 

“The goddess accepts you, and blesses upon you this gift to carry with you.” 

There is a sudden sharp pain just on the inside of his shoulder blades, which fades quickly to an ache. Then a blossoming pain, building and building. Eita bites their lips against it, wincing, feeling as though they are growing a new limb, or replacing all of their skin at once, as though their back is whipped raw and they must wear new clothes, ill-fitting and chafing against their wounds. It grows into a sharp pain, too much to bear; then they feel a slicing motion on their back, and then pain recedes to a noticeable, yet bearable level. 

They feel a warmth dripping down from their new wounds, and the sensation of something emerging. Wings. They cannot see them, but they can feel them, twitching and sending spasms of pain through them. 

The worst seems to be over. They can feel Naoto carding through their wings, washing them of blood in the spring. It seems sacrilegious, until they note the red mist swirling away into nothing when they look down. She hums, a soothing melody that eases the pain a little; they join in, knowing of the song from festivals, which helps even more. 

Once she is done, the sun has climbed a fair way in its path towards midday, and Eita feels a tiredness settling into their bones. Naoto giggles when they breathe out deeply, and helps them to their feet, smiling. 

“Not so hard, was it?” she says, guiding them to the edge of the clearing where she’s left her bag. Once there, they both turn, and bow deeply, before Naoto picks up her bag and shrugs it over one shoulder and links their arms again. Eita huffs, bereft of the energy to speak. “Walk as far as you can, we’ll take regular breaks. Eat this, too.” She hands them something they barely look at, let alone stop to taste, inhaling rather than eating it. It lends them a burst of strength, although they do not let go of Naoto. Winding their way slowly down the mountain, they see the day morph into the afternoon, and dream of their bed. They feel lightheaded, and their new wings twitch uncomfortably. 

Naoto explains on the way down that the wings will form their swan maiden skin within a few days. She will be on hand to aid Eita with the transition, as well as Shirabu. She tells them the stories of Shirabu and his incessant complaining with every waking hour of his transformation – thankfully few, as he was so tired. Eita smiles tiredly, focusing on the distance between the two of them and the roofs of the village, creeping ever closer. 

The sun is muddling towards the horizon again when they reach the edge of the village, and Eita collapses into the arms of Shirabu, anxiously awaiting their return. He has many questions, all of which Naoto answers in her own vague way, clearly tired herself. Eita thinks perhaps she was awake the entire night, watching; lending her eyes to the goddess. 

Eita recalls little after that, darkness clouding into their vision, merging all around them into a myriad of sounds, ghosts of touches and hands of ancestors tracing through their hair alongside real hands. Pain and incomprehensible murmurs crowd around them, and they let go of consciousness, comforted in the hold of many caring hands.

* * *

The next few days are a fever-ridden blur, sounds fusing together and memories of things they do not recall happening to them. They pass in moments of clarity, being fed small amounted, helped to relieve themself, changed from their sweat-soaked clothing, their brow mopped with blessed cool water by gentle hands. 

Eita approximates that it is the third full day after their trial when they open their eyes to soft afternoon light, and Shirabu dozing behind them. Across the room on the futon are tufts of black heralding Naoto’s presence, and Eita shivers, pulling the covers up further. They seem more silken than usual, more as though they hold something feathered… 

The thought having occurred to them, they shift their gaze to peer at it. A cloak, just like Shirabu’s, but of downy light ashen feathers, instead of Shirabu’s white. Shirabu’s cloak is still hung up above the bed, so, perhaps- 

They reach to feel their back, and stop short when it twinges in protest of the movement. Of course, they think to themselves, smiling wryly. A few days are not enough to heal from that kind of wound. They won’t be flying anywhere quite yet, but they have made this grand leap. They relax slowly back down again, breathing slowly against the aching; it’s better than it was, but not close to gone, especially on exertion. 

The movement stirs Shirabu, blinking his eyes open and blandly watching Eita for a moment, sleep still clouding his thoughts. They see when it clears though, his eyes widening a modicum as he lifts his head. 

“Do you need anything?” he asks; Eita reaches out to take one of his hands rather than answer. They press their lips to it softly.  
“You’ve done enough, Shirabu,” they murmur, at which Shirabu snorts.  
“It’s a little difficult to repay a life debt, so sorry, you are stuck with me,” he says, relief heavy in his voice. He then glances away, his cheeks gaining a rose colour. “You- You could call me Kenjirou. I’d let you.” 

Eita watches him for a second, his eyes flitting about in embarrassment. Eita smiles, and holds his hand tighter.  
“Of course. I’ll practice,” they say, and watches Shirabu’s mouth twitch upwards, unable to hide his smile.  
“Your cloak looks good. Healthy.” Shirabu smoothes a hand over it, and Eita feels the pressure running down their arm as he does so.  
“I’m glad. Soon I’ll be up and flying alongside you all.” 

Shirabu looks pleased at that; Eita is impatient to get started.

* * *

Naoto goes back to her house to keep a closer eye on her child, although she checks in on them frequently. Between her, Shirabu, and the rest of the swan maidens coming to visit, they start to learn the nuances of looking after their cloak; the spells they can now use to clean it in a pinch, as Shirabu had done at the palace; the proper ways and tools to keep it in good condition. They keep it on them as much as possible, feeling it truly start to become a part of them. They turn into a swan and back, flitting between states to ensure they are comfortable in both. 

They exercise their wings, building up the muscles required for flight; it is many days of aching shoulders, arms heavy with the effort and Kenjirou barely hiding his bemusement. Eita retains enough energy to flash him a rude gesture. Kenjirou doesn’t retain enough tact not to flash one back. 

A few months pass before Naoto thinks they have built up enough strength for flying, and after a few test flights, she is happy that they can finally set out for their first flight with the flock. A momentous occasion; they feel the flock thrumming with excited energy as she tells them all that tomorrow they shall fly. A nerve-wracking occasion, for they shall lead the flock in take-off, and in spite of the practice they’ve had, they fret that they might make a fool of themselves. Kenjirou attempts to ease their concerns with the story (most gleefully told to them) of Goshiki’s coming of age flight, a nasty scrape with a tree and a week of dreadful healing potions to ensure it grew back correctly. 

It actually does little to ease their nerves, but it makes them laugh, so that’s one thing. 

The next day dawns crisp and clear, with a light frost on turning leaves. They pull their cloak around their shoulders, and Kenjirou smiles at them proudly as he follows them out. The rest of the flock is already there, including those that will stay behind; those with children to care for, those too elderly to continue flying. Naoto will remain grounded, her child in her arms, his cloak securely wrapped around him. The envy in Eita is still present, but has been quelled with the fading scars and the echoes of old pain. 

Today, they will fly, and that envy shall be no more. For freedom is within their grasp now, the sky above them a target to aim for, and now with the means to reach it, they feel as though the world could be at their feet. 

They take their place leading the flock out of the village, to the area they take off from; for all of them to go at once, they require plenty of space. Kenjirou points out that it has fewer trees around. Goshiki splutters. 

They halt at the edge of the plain, feeling Kenjirou by their side, and the rest of the flock behind them. Taking a deep breath, they pause for just one second, before they pull their cloak over them and merge with it, feeling shoulders and arms become wings, feeling their body change and shift in a way that’s become known to them, until they see through the eyes of a swan. 

Then, they run. Flapping their wings furiously, they are quite certain it is not as elegant as those who have been flying for years, but getting airborne is their only goal. Elegance and sophistication will come later, with practice. They start to feel it take, start to feel the ground go from under their feet; once they do, they tuck their legs underneath them to improve their form. 

And quite suddenly, they are flying. 

It takes some effort to gain enough altitude to clear the ground fully, but once they are stable aloft, they glance back. 

Spreading back either side of them, the flock stretches out into a ‘V’ shape, arcing out behind them. Kenjirou honks at them gleefully, starting a volley of cheering among the flock. Eita, filled with elation, joins in, shouting their joy at managing it. 

After all, they have managed it. Alongside Kenjirou and Naoto, Goshiki, Tendou and all the rest, they have, finally, learnt to fly. 

The clouds are within their reach now, whenever they wish to reach for them. With Kenjirou, their flock, and a whole sky to explore, Eita feels right at home.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for OnceaBlueMoon's birthday! I hope you all enjoy it!


End file.
